A simple scene from a work in progress
by Frank Wolf
Summary: ok i tried to be nice with my past summary but no more Mr. Nice dude this one for all you sick writers with your little sick ideas about incest and depravation! you all know who you are! read, hate, review! enjoy my darlings... and see you in hell


Disclaimer: _this is a scene from an original story that I'm currently in the process of completing. This is by no means a threat to anyone and any similarities are purely coincidental. Please read and enjoy I will appreciate your comments either good or bad and please remember that this is purely for one's amusement._

I cocked the shotgun in my hands the same way I have a countless times before, like a professional raving blood thirsty lunatic, my eyes deep and filled with hatred as I said-I really want to FCKING kill you!- I emphasized on the cuss my face almost trembled in anger, and I know my eyes shine with pure hatred and madness. I am really angry right now. It wells in me like fire, the type of anger that blinds you turning you into a berserker killing machine. Its amazing that I had controlled myself so far, or maybe it's the fact that I really love to see my prey wriggling like a worm on a hook. This is really fun…-p-please… have mercy-My prey begs, it's voice a whimper that goes unheard by selective deaf ears, my own. No amount of begging and pleading and anything will quell my anger, the only thing that can however is bloody satisfaction. After I'm done the adrenaline in me will cease wreaking havoc on my system giving me a hell of a headache, oh I know I'm well aware of this. But this is nothing a good smoke a shot of scotch can't fix, and if all else fails I'll take a whole bunch of sleeping pills and knock myself out till next week. I'll fall in a dark dreamless slumber where time has no meaning but I know I'll feel better. The after party is set, good all I have to do now is pull the goddamn trigger. -p-please oh p-p-please don't I beg of you…-He begs again at least he recognizes it, I almost want to smile at his loss of dignity and bravery but my face remains cold and hard. My intentions had never been any clearer. He knew that his fate was sealed, so he closed his eyes and awaited the reaper, this reaper wasn't as nice as the original however, this reaper was named Remington 12 gauge pump action shotgun and baby… I'm using the red shells the ones capable of blowing a whole in an elephant. It won't be pretty, I'll probably get splattered by blood and guts and lots of other stuff that I care not name. Whatever it's worth it, his demise by my hand is definitely worth anything. Slowly my finger squeezes the trigger and time stands still. it's a feeling that I have grown accustomed to, those last seconds before walking through that door that you know has no return. Its quite similar to that when you're about to crash, the impact is imminent and time slows down but for some reason you can't move, all you can do is close your eyes and brace yourself. That's what he's doing right now, me on the other hand I'm smiling, visibly and ever so widely.

The gunshot echoes in the darkness sealing the fate of the author. His head is no more. I laugh out loud enjoying the moment and feeling proud of myself. I was indeed covered by blood, guts, brains and tears and my head felt like it was about to split open, but nothing could faze my good mood. My joyous laugh becomes maniacal, diabolical and I'm loving it. One less, I know that there are many more but for now, I'll enjoy this single moment. Killing someone never felt so good, well maybe not… I did feel pretty good when I killed that ahole at McDonald's, maybe even better. You know I'm not sure but all I know is that right now I feel pretty damn good about myself. I erased from this plane of existence another meaningless writer with deranged ideas and soul-less plots, his view of the world disgusting and unreal. His way of writing and the things he wrote were just plain wrong. My job is not done, this I know, there are many more sick writers out there that have yet to feel the loving kiss of my beloved Remington… but fear not they will, oh believe me, they will…

**Author's note**: At first I didn't want to post this, because I didn't want anyone to feel offended or threatened but I decided to give it a shot and trust in the better judgment of my fellow writers…


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